H. His Deuises for his owne exercise, and his Friends pleasure [by Thomas Howell] |
To his Song, sent to his Mistresse.
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H. His Deuises | ||
To his Song, sent to his Mistresse.
Song in the sweete place,Where as my Ladie was
walking.
Thinke if thou shouldst stande,
She would reach out her hande,
wylling.
Touch not her tendernesse,
Stoupe to her statelinesse,
hie thee.
Mercurie bodilesse,
ply thee.
Tell her I will come,
Knowing not howe soone,
speede well.
Loue may no let haue,
This is all I craue,
farewell.
H. His Deuises | ||